2 Jul 2024, 09:43
The Library Again
Joseph felt a wave of ease wash over him as he brushed his fingers along the smooth, bumpy surfaces of the spines of his favourite books. It had been another rough day for him. Sometimes he simply longed to sink into his soft, cosy four poster bed, cuddling with his little pillow for warmth as he gazed out of the window at the twinkling stars above. Those precious jewels in the sky that glimmered hope. Why couldn't his problems be more like them: so minute and distant?
Focus, Joseph, you have an assignment to complete. Joseph scolded himself, pulling a handful of his hair in frustration. He didn't have all day to wallow in self-pity. He had homework waiting for him. And not even the soft glow of the stars at twilight would be able to heal him from the guilt that would plague him all night if he got a scolding or worse, detention, for not completing his work. Why did homework exist? Why couldn't Joseph just be some peace-loving creature that only had to care about when to eat? Like a mooncalf. Those adorable, big-eyed critters. That would be nice.
A weak smile spread across Joseph's face as he fished out the book he had been rummaging his bag for. Mesmerised, he watched a bowtruckle dart around the cover of his book with surprising agility, wielding something that shared a remarkable resemblance to something muggles called a toothpick. Maybe writing an essay wouldn't be as boring as he had assumed it would be.
Focus, Joseph, you have an assignment to complete. Joseph scolded himself, pulling a handful of his hair in frustration. He didn't have all day to wallow in self-pity. He had homework waiting for him. And not even the soft glow of the stars at twilight would be able to heal him from the guilt that would plague him all night if he got a scolding or worse, detention, for not completing his work. Why did homework exist? Why couldn't Joseph just be some peace-loving creature that only had to care about when to eat? Like a mooncalf. Those adorable, big-eyed critters. That would be nice.
A weak smile spread across Joseph's face as he fished out the book he had been rummaging his bag for. Mesmerised, he watched a bowtruckle dart around the cover of his book with surprising agility, wielding something that shared a remarkable resemblance to something muggles called a toothpick. Maybe writing an essay wouldn't be as boring as he had assumed it would be.
Life is like a box of Bertie Botts Every Flavour Beans; you never know what you are going to get.